As James pulled the records from his desk drawer, he gave a deep sigh, an audible preview of the conversation that was about to take place.
"Is there something wrong?" The client asked, opening his arms with a nervous smile, a mannerism typical of those who believe that fame, fortune and celebrity grants them special privileges.
"Mr. Pitt." James began as he opened the file. "The circumstances under which you were first placed on trial for the program have changed." He said rapidly. "As of now, we are placing your application on hold until further notice." he needed to get as much of the message across before the client...
"What!" Brad jumped from his chair. "What do you...."?
"You shouldn't feel this reflects negatively on you."
Brad grabbed his forehead and took heavy breaths, he scratched his right eyebrow and asked in his best "contained anger" voice.
"What do you mean the circumstances have changed?"
James extended his hand. "Please sit down."
One exasperated glance towards the ceiling later Brad decided to sit again on the chair. "Three years ago your program came to me." He said pointing an accusatory finger at James. "You came to me. You told me that I was the perfect candidate, I have the means, I have the fame, I have the looks for goods sakes to be on your precious program and now that I decide to go ahead and transform..."
"Join, " James corrected. " We prefer the term: Join. You know, like: a church, a club."
"Join." Brad sighed again. "Now you tell me that circumstances have changed? What the fuck do you mean with that!"
"Mr. Pitt, if you keep using words like that I'll terminate this interview and destroy your file." James told him regaining control of the interview. "Get a grip."
A contained tantrum followed but James allowed it. He had allowed Romano's, too. He actually liked to see stars deal with frustration. Their screen characters seeped through in most cases. He had enjoyed Williams the most and the security tape playback was a hit on all office parties
"I am going to call John." Pitt finally told him. "That's what I'm going to do."
"John?" James lifted an eyebrow. "Which John?"
"Which John?" Brad mocked him. "Malkovich, that John, and I'm going to tell him what you are trying to do to me!" he finished with a fist to the desk.
James reclined on his chair and joined his hands, fingers extended in front of him.
"Mr. Pitt," he said as he turned his eyes jet black and allowed his fangs to come out from his jaw "I don't know what leads you to believe that Mr. Malkovich is part of the program, but I assure you that if you were to contact him in violation of your signed non-disclosure agreement he would most certainly proceed to rip your liver out from your body and consume it while you watched." He even passed his tongue in front of his teeth as Brad sat back down on his chair, arms on his lap.
James shook his head reverting to his human visage and leaned closer to the desk.
"Now," he continued. "The problem is not your looks, and the problem is not monetary, we spend millions a year alone in the production of the U.V. resistant creams and contact lenses. Granted, since Mr. Gates joined the program, our R & D team has made great strides, but there is no such thing as too much money." He stopped, allowing Brad to regain some confidence.
"I'm not famous enough then?" Brad timidly offered.
"Oh no, no, no, no. What are my three little movies compared to your career. No, that's not the issue."
"Then what is it?"
"Uhm..." James clacked his teeth, "Well, it's your wife Mr. Pitt."
"My wife? That didn't matter three years ago."
"Well, back then you were married to Jennifer," James opened the file. "And sure, while we frown upon admitting two persons from the same household to the program, its not unheard of, Lucy and Desi still send us new episodes from time to time. In your case, however, you divorced and then married Helen and..."
"Helen?" Brad interrupted. "My wife's name is not Helen."
"Ahh." James rolled his eyes. "Yes it is."
"As in of Troy, Helen."
"Damn," Brad sat back and actually laughed. "Helen of Troy! And a couple of years ago I was Achilles in..."
"I know" James said joining him with smile. "Troy! Nice movie by the way."
"So she's part of the program then?" Brad said slapping his knee. "Hey, the more the merrier!"
"Well, she's not part of the program per se." James continued. "She instituted the program. She's the founder."
"I don't follow you."
"Yeah, she changes names a lot. Angelina, Mata-Hari, Bathory, Cleopatra, Helen, Nefertiti..." James allowed the names to sink in before continuing, he then, leaned closer to the desk and whispered as Brad leaned too "Her real name is Lilith."
"I don't know that last one." Brad told him as he moved back again.
James thought for a second about explaining but, how do you let it easy on a guy that his wife was also Adam's first wife? That her name was erased from the bible, that she had been cursed by God to wander the earth because of her sins of pride. No, common sense prevailed, it was better for him to find out on his own. If he dared.
"Google it." James said, and he closed the file again. He then extended a hand towards Brad. "Anyway, its her rules that apply, so I can't do anything for you until something changes."
"Something?" Brad shook his hand weakly, and James reeled him in until his fangs prickled his neck.
"I like you Pitt". He said, "I've already gone on a limb by telling you what I've told you. Don't screw up. Don't ask her anything. Right now you are just her pet blood bag."
He released him before finishing. "I don't see Prince Paris of Troy around anymore. Do you?"
Brad grabbed his neck; a smudge of blood stained his fingertips.
"You are welcome." James told him as he pointed towards the door and pressed the intercom. "Marilyn, could you please show Mr. Pitt the exit and send me a pint."
"Sure thing hon.," Came back the silky voice. "And James baby, I have Mr. Gibson waiting on the line one again."
"God dammit!" James said aloud before pressing the intercom button. "You answer him Marilyn and please tell him that Mr. Dean said, and quote me: Mel, you either stop serving ethanol to your blood bags before you drink them or I will send Walken to have a chat with you."
He turned to smile at Brad who was still at the door. "Now that's one scary mother." and pulled a little comb from his pocket to fix his hair. "Don't worry, we'll keep in touch."
© Copyright 2016 dracognan. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Humor
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